


with mistakes and in tears, we just go

by nimbo



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, cloud and tifa talk and they don't combust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimbo/pseuds/nimbo
Summary: Cloud and Tifa are friends. They're trying to thrive, not just survive anymore.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	with mistakes and in tears, we just go

When he started, he didn’t know what to capture. What to write. It seemed flat, lifeless. _ This is my life, _ he wanted to say, _ Tifa, I can barely remember any of it _. What he did instead was sitting at his desk, fingers poised over the keys and the blinking line that was prelude letters and words and sentences. 

The computer was fished out of Shinra’s metallic corpse and handed with more care than Cloud thought Reno was capable of. Barret had tinkered with it, to make sure the thing was free of bugs and cameras. 

“It’s embarrassing that you’re using pen and paper.” Rufus said and that had been that. 

_ I’m just not very interesting. _

He pulls faces in the mirror. A phantom transposes on the reflection, a younger Cloud. Chocobo fluff hair and ice pale skin. Veins as clear as distorted glass under his paper thin skin. 

The memory comes in clarity then. His mum’s back, hunched over the wash basin as he played in the bathroom. Too young to be helpful and not old enough not to be clingy. He was meant to be splitting peas but he wanted to be near his mum. 

“_Momma’s boy_,” jeers--and that’s what breaks the memory. It stops, halted by the scrambled electrons in his brain. Synapses not aligned. At least it’s not as bad as say, Vincent’s. He didn’t get them as little time lapses, no, he had the memory equivalent of narcolepsy. 

“I was bullied.” But it feels distant, as though it happened to someone else. The child has the same face, same base body, same soul but it feels distant. A forgettable detail in someone else’s life. 

So he writes that down. He writes whatever, really. Some of it feels like iron coating his tongue. Some of it feels easy, like a loose screw giving way. A lot of it feels nonsensical. 

Tifa doesn’t ask to see it despite her bugging him to start in the first place. 

“Why did you want me to start writing?” Tifa doesn’t quite yelp, squeaky gloved hand coming up to slap him. An automatic reaction. Cloud wonders what training Zangan put her through. 

“You’re not talking to any of us,” she raises a finger, “I’m not qualified to work with you through your issues,” a second one, “I _ shouldn’t _ try to and I’m sorry about trying to do that, and the third is that it isn’t healthy to walk around with all that bottled up in your chest even if you think that it’s okay.” Tifa returns with a set of gloves, “Come on, earn your keep.” He puts them on dutifully as she shucks her off to accept the washed dishes with a cloth instead. They fall into an easy rhythm. 

“Besides, I think you’re more likely to write than talk to a professional. I don’t think there are any good, qualified people to talk to who would understand the scope of the reality that we lived through. I’ve been looking but I haven’t found one that’s trustworthy.” Tifa says with a sigh.

“What about you?” Tifa hums, slanting him a crooked grin. 

“You really want me to talk about my feelings when you haven’t?” He feels a tenseness in his chest, not the taut of battle adrenaline or the worry when he saw Denzel walking with the children, eyes blank. 

He recognises it when Tifa snorts, embarrassment. Shame. It unspools, relief cooling his system. 

“Hm, I’m doing as well as I can. I’ve been reading up on this form of therapy. Cognitive behavioural therapy and I’ve been trying it. I haven’t talked to the others much since they’re all over the place. I talk to Yuffie on a semi regular basis. I text Vincent and he replies back. He’s usually finding a rare herb or materia.”

“Eh. I figure after the world almost literally ending that I can be,” Tifa hums, tucking the cloth into the handle of the oven, turning to face him, “what’s the word? Easier on myself? Not ignore what I tell myself? Kinder.” 

“That’s good.” His voice comes out dry, gravelly. Tifa giggles as she hands him a glass of water.

“Used up your word allowance for the day? Maxed it out?” There’s a twinkle in her eye as she ribs him. He finishes the glass with a grumble. 

“It’s okay, talking is a muscle. If you don’t use it, you lose it.” Tifa squishes his arm, “Yup, positively frail.” 

*

Halfway through takeout and reruns of an old show. He doesn’t recognise the language its in, only that seven pretty boys are on an inflated bouncy course and there are a lot of squeaky sound effects. Tifa likes it though, so he sits and thinks in between bites of curry and rice. 

“You’ve grown up a lot,” Tifa laughs a little, caught off guard. She pauses the show and puts her food down. The glow of the television casts her in stark shadow, one half illuminated by the blue light. 

“Good or bad?” she says it like a question, brow raised slightly. Teasing, giving him a way out. She’s been doing that a lot, more levity and less fatalism. Reproving when Denzel mentions he misses Cloud but she doesn’t have the--expectation? that she had following Denzel’s arrival, after Meteorfall, after smashing into her life after years of being gone without explanation.

It’s nice. Comforting. 

“Good.” he mutters, dragging his eyes to look at her in the eye. She nods, pressing her smile thin. Her eyes are a little bright when she presses play. 

The show plays, six of the guys dogpiling the one who ran the length of the course in the time it took for the others to reach the first obstacle. Tifa laughs and mouths along to songs that play in the background, eyes drinking in the subtitles while he watches her. 

Without the weight of--_ more_, he’s happier. It doesn’t feel like navigating a field of landmines blindfolded. He makes it harder on himself than he needs to sometimes, by _ never talking about things even when you’re bleeding out _ but, well. Writing is nice. He might burn it all straight after but it is progress. Trying to type was a nightmare but it worked for others.

That’s what Tifa tells him. His nightmares are less populated with Sephiroth clones and more, huh, things that he’s ignored for, hrm. A while. More Zack which through writing he’s identified as a metric ton of survivor's guilt, Sephiroth before Jenova got to him which is probably guilt again along with a side of hero worship. Not sure what he’s going to do with that but admitting there’s shit to fix is half the process. According to Tifa. And she seems happier now. 

He doesn’t see the pillow coming. He does see her huffing, clutching an alpaca to her side as she stalks off with cleared plates. He pauses the show, watching her clean. 

“Thankyou Tifa.” The alpaca has a red bandana tied around its throat and a smile curving its fluffy face. 

She whips around, wooden spoon held like a sword. “How, how _ dare _ you blindside me with actual emotional growth and voluntary expression of emotion!” He blinks, watching the bubbles drip off the handle. 

“I feel like it’s been a long time coming.” Tifa suppresses a giggle, snort slipping through. The wooden spoon is rinsed and put into the dish rack.

“Yes. Oh my god, it’s been coming for so long. I’m sorry, but as your friend, it was like watching glaciers move.” Cloud can see the wheels turn in her brain as she bites her lip, “But also! Amazing of you to do it! You’re making a lot of progress and that’s,” Her eyes go warm, “it’s really heartwarming. I’m glad you’re living the way you want instead of living around things and not acknowledging them.” 

She leaves the dishes to dry, looking over her shoulder where he stands, stock-still. 

“You’re not fair either.” he croaks out. She laughs and tugs him by the forearm to the living room.

“Neither were you for ages,” And suddenly the air deflates, horror writ in the whites of her eyes. “Sorry, that wasn’t called for,” Regret is plain as day on her face.

They sit on opposite ends of the couch. Tifa turns on the lamp and he feels exposed under the electric light. She curls up, alpaca clutched to her chest. He thumbs the tassel of the cushion, picking out the right words. 

“You’re right. I should apologise for being unfair to you.” The right words aren’t there so he tries with the second best. “But I haven’t come to,” he gestures with his hands, vaguely, at the ceiling, “terms with everything. I’m still trying to reconcile with the memories I have of you, the ones Hojo put into my head about Nibelheim, and. Everything.” Tifa nods, patient. She’s listening. 

Something in Cloud loosens at that. A knot he didn’t even know existed.

“That doesn’t exempt me from. Being bad at.” He swallows, regret a lump that he can’t begin to fathom. “Here. Taking care of Denzel. Treating myself right. Walking on eggshells with you.” 

_ I’ve been a bad friend. A really bad one. I’m so glad that you stuck around._

“I’m--thank you. For being here. Having the room set up for me. Letting me run my business here.” _ Helping me when I didn’t help myself_. 

“You would do it too, in your own way.” Tifa says, simply. Quiet. Her belief is so unwavering that Cloud entertains the thought. 

“You did when I had expectations of you. Of,” she waves at everything, “more. More than either of us were remotely ready for or knew what we wanted. I saw you with expectations that you could never live up to and I’m sorry about that.” 

“You two apologise a lot to one another.” Tifa leaps up, hands ready for a fight. Cloud jolts, hands scrambling for Ultima. It’s for nothing as Shelke melts out of the shadows, jar of cookies in hand. 

The girl’s mako-bright eyes assess them, head tilted. The movement is curiously robotic. The sheen of her eyes would say there’s nothing behind those blues but weeks of softening to Marlene and Denzel say otherwise.

“Yes Shelke, people apologise when they’ve done bad things to each other. Sometimes people do it intentionally, other times it’s just a mistake.” Tifa turns the moment into a learning lesson and he can understand why people thought she was the ideal partner. 

Just not for him, he’s realising. He wouldn’t be good to her in the way she deserved. 

“Hm.” Shelke looks at him, staring at him from head to toe. 

“I don’t get it.” A laugh threatens to air the dust from his lungs but a look from Tifa kills the thought. 

“What part of it don’t you get?” Tifa holds out her hand for the jar. Shelke heaves a sigh and Cloud can see the label from a nearby bakery. Stealing was a habit Tifa hadn’t trained--worked with the girl through yet. 

“The human condition,” Shelke deadpans, handing the jar over. “However, I am not so bad at noticing cues that I will not vacate the premises and allow it to continue.” She glides up the stairs, glaring at Cloud all the while. 

“Not so bad, my foot.” Cloud drawls. Tifa smacks his leg in reproach, sitting down again with a sigh. She puts the cookies on the coffee table. 

“Everyone is on their own journey.” Tifa says. It sounds like she needs the reminder as much as he does. She repeats it with a sigh, holding her face in her hands. 

“She seems to like you now.” Cloud offers. It’s a far cry from Shelke being a nitpicky prick over semantics and oscillating between hating or adoring Vincent. Now she’s borderline passing for ordinary. 

“She hates you,” Tifa informs him stiffly, pulling the alpaca close. “She’s planning to turn Denzel against you and lead a revolution for your head.” 

“I have to have something interesting in my life besides my issues Tifa,” Cloud says. Tifa smacks him with a pillow. 

“You sounded like Rufus.” Tifa says tartly and Cloud feels a grin slant his face. 

“You just can’t resist this,” Cloud says, haughtiness sharpening his words. Reclines back into the couch as though it were a chaise. 

Tifa stares at him, disgust curling her lip. “No.” She presses play and ignores him as he sniggers. 

The show wraps up with six on a boat and an unclear winner. The next episode starts with the seventh returning to an outdoor dinner that he feels his eyes grow heavy at. He lets sleep wash over him. 

He’s safe.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are my lifeblood !!! pls don't let me be a corpse
> 
> bts references:  
\- the title is from "so what" from their album ly: tear  
\- the show tifa puts on is 'run! bts', episode 84 and 85 respectively  
\- the alpaca is RJ, created by bts member seokjin
> 
> feel free to skip this part:  
i always felt unsatisfied with the character development of Cloud n i couldn't point it towards any specific reason until i read a fic where he was p much immortal due to being the weapon of the planet n then i finally noticed why i felt unsatisfied with him.  
he never heals (as far as the player/viewer in later instalments) from the trauma of all the thing that happened to him. his treatment in nibelheim, inferiority complex which was exacerbated through enrolling as an army member, subsequent slaughter of his town n being experimented on as the baseline for hojo's experiments. losing his memories and having them all messed up by hojo. having his one link to life before die for him n his thing where he acts like zack to aerith. having to haul ass all over the globe n having the love of zack's life (who he was under the delusion that he was) dying because of him? all the while battling a connection that rivals harry's with voldemort's in the fact he is literally fused with sephiroth's DNA. then having to face off against him n the whole kerfuffle like.. i haven't even gone through to advent children which this is set after. i haven't even touched on the underground n the lvl of flashbacks looking at shelke would induce.
> 
> look, it plays great, it's magnificent looking in the trailors they keep showing us for suspense but i needed cloud to grow n live, not just survive.
> 
> [previous tags that i deleted because i do not want to make more work for ao3 tag wranglers: verbal communication and apologising for the things they've done to each other intentional n unintentional as intent is extremely important cloud and tifa talk and they don't combust PTSD as a minor character since they've dealt with so much garbage that game devs heaped on them spiritual successor to 'cold war' yes they're in completely different fandoms n written years apart shh their dynamic is v interesting n underexplored n that is a shame this was written for (1) person n that is me at 4AM]
> 
> private because i am as well lol


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